


Mass Effect: Divergent at 2165

by Nugtrio



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:05:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nugtrio/pseuds/Nugtrio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an alternate timeline where David Anderson did become the first human Spectre in spite of Saren's interferences in 2165. Humanity has been pushed forward due in large part to Anderson's work, and although humans are still seen as upstarts in many of the established Citadel species' eyes, they are more respected due to their contributions in galactic peacekeeping. The storyline follows a female Shepard from the beginning of her N7 days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Shepard’s omni-tool buzzed from where it sat on her bedside table.

Barked, angrily, more like, as if the piece of hardware understood the harsh expression the message’s sender must have been wearing right now at 3 AM Arcturus time.

She fully expected something like this to have come within the next couple of days, yet being robbed of a precious full night of uninterrupted sleep while on the rarest of shore leaves did not sit well with her. By the annoyed ruffling of her bed guest, he wasn’t a fan of the rude wakeup either.

_Vera,_

_I should be happy for you. I really should._

_But to have to hear about the truth about your N7 graduation from Anderson instead of my own daughter’s mouth._

_The way you’re going about life, you’re going to end up like your father._

_I suppose this also means your “plans” of transferring to the_ Tokyo _had been a bit of a lie to keep me dark._

_Just be careful alright? I’ve been privy to enough N7 mission briefings to know the odds you are going to face._

_Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard_

The night cycles aboard the station had been a blessing after her stint on Argento, a planet-sized desert tidally locked to its sun. The constant daylight was unforgiving enough to her sleep cycle, without taking the intermittent Batarian assault into account.

By the second month stationed on that forsaken planet she and the rest of her squadron of N’s had been exhausted to the point collapsing with all but a cold towel draped over their eyes and searing sand rock underneath their backs.

“Vera, turn that thing off and give me a decent night’s sleep won’t you?”

Shepard realized that she had been staring at her mother’s message for longer than was entirely necessary. With a whispered apology to Lance, she powered her omni-tool off and set it back down to let much needed sleep reclaim her. Once morning cycle hits she had to be ready for anything Alliance Commands hands her way. As David Anderson had told her when she was relieved of Argento’s hellish climate and unceremoniously handed her N7 designation aboard a Turian cruiser of all things, _there’s no rest for the wicked_.

At 7 AM station time, with the expected military precision, shift change began aboard the Alliance capital. Lance was gone, his side of the bed predictively cold by the time Shepard hazily sat up. She didn’t know where he was going or when he would be back as per usual. No relationship – just the occasional bedside encounter to let off a little steam – that was their agreement.

But god knows she needed a better start to her day with a good tumble in the proverbial hay.

She showered and dressed herself in her casual Alliance fatigues and set about reacclimatizing herself to Arcturus.

Her itinerary told Shepard that breakfast was being served to off-duty personnel in eight cafeterias. Being the centre of Human space, these cafeterias offered much more than the usual omni-gel infused sludge rationed in the throes of military service. When she was younger, Shepard used to love when the various ships she lived on docked and given enough supplies for the mess sergeants to whip up some authentic Earth food.

The large space she entered was sparsely populated to her delight. No lines meant she could quickly pile her plate up with pancakes, eggs, and bacon. With her pickings of seats, Shepard took up a chair by a pane of glass that separated the clean and sterile confines of any typical Alliance military facility from an inexplicably controlled looking garden. After Humanity gained their first Spectre in her mentor, Anderson, the Parliament decided that its seat of power should emanate the Presidium on the Citadel as a way to welcome dignitaries of other species.

Shepard recalled, as she began wolfing down her meal, an old and cynical tale from her mother about the Asari Councillor’s first visit to Arcturus station. After five days’ worth of discussions with parliament leaders on various trade deals and military responsibilities she had been surprised and somewhat incensed when the Prime Minister bid her farewell. The punchline here being that the Asari had thought Arcturus was merely a relay station on the way to a “proper” facility worthy of her post.

The truth in the story was probably less absurd, likely a misunderstanding due to the Asari nature of drawn out negotiations and stretched timelines. Still, as a small army of gardeners tended to the various plants, Shepard found the Alliance’s pandering leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Dedicating such a large portion of limited space on the very station that protected the Human home system smelled of a bunch of political boardroom bullshit.

Before Shepard could clean up her plate, however, her omni-tool beeped and flashed red. This was a message from Alliance Command.

She cursed her reverie for delaying her eating but nonetheless stacked everything by the garbage disposal and dusted off her fatigues to make sure she was presentable for her first N7 mission briefing.

When she entered the room the projected image on the vid screen immediately caught her attention. Shepard wasn’t an expert on the geography of various Alliance worlds, but the map of North America’s western seaboard was unmistakable.

For a war tested veteran, the tingly feeling in her toes was not a common reaction.

But she couldn’t help feel overcome by the significance of a spacer finally getting to set her foot upon the soil of her home planet – if the image means what she thinks it means.

The stern looking officer that stood with his back ramrod straight eyed her as she paced across the front of the briefing room and situated herself beside another marine.

“Name, rank, and serial?” A woman who stood opposite to the door addressed Shepard while bring up her omni-tool for voice identification.

“Shepard, Vera. Staff Lieutenant. 5923-AC-2826.” Shepard replied crisply.

Satisfied, the woman give a look of approval to the officer, a Major by his insignia, who gave a deliberate nod to the new arrival. Then he cleared throat before turning partially to the vid screen while maintaining the same ramrod stance.

“Lieutenants Shepard, Kilroy,” The Major started, “Major Zhao, N7, Alliance Sol Security Forces Special Operations Attachment. Thank you for coming in today.”

Shepard shifted her posture as a simple acknowledgement of her superior. Normally high N’s don’t bother with the formalities of rank when other high N’s are present.

Clearly nobody told Kilroy. The man, who looked like the carbon-copy college graduate, eagerly stood to mirror the Major’s posture and snapped into the most ideal of salutes.

“At ease, soldier.” Zhao responded, his tone neutral while his fellow N7 had to fight back a bout of amused giggling.

Kilroy sat back down, face flushed. Zhao turned to address Shepard. This briefing was clearly for Shepard’s benefit since it was highly unusual for a green recruit like the young man beside her to be privy to any special operations.

So his presence was an oddity.

“We’ve been delivered some curious intel through several channels known to be associated with the Terra Firma movement. Apparently their political alignments place them in a vulnerable spot when it comes to anti-alien terrorist activities.” The senior N7 continued as the woman, his assistant by the look of things, toggled the display to bring up several dots shown in either blue or red.

“A particularly large network of alien-hating bigots, it seems, have escaped the Alliance’s mesh of communication monitoring and surveillance warnings. Terra Firma and its associated organisations have kindly provided us with an abundance of actionable intelligence on the locations of active cells.”

Shepard looked at the spread of dots on the screen, disheartened to see so many of her fellow man more than willing to undo all the progress humanity have made since the First Contact War. The fact that the loudest of human-centric political movements had delivered the intelligence didn’t sit well with her either.

At best these people sat on the intelligence as a bartering chip for concessions by the Alliance parliament. At worst they embedded, even helped, the terrorists just to sell them out to further their own agenda.

More political bullshit. She can’t deny she’s got a brain for the inner dealings and power plays that go on underneath the thinnest of veils, but she’s also got quite the distaste for the stuff.

“Vancouver’s space port receives dozens of high level visitors each month. Due to its exposure we consider it the highest priority amongst possible targets.” Zhao said, signalling his assistant to toggle again. The screen transitioned to an Alliance Navy service portrait.

A woman in her mid-forties, Hispanic resemblances. Nothing struck Shepard other than the angry scar running diagonal across the bridge of her nose that extended from the corner of her left eye to her hairline.

“Former Lieutenant Commander Josephine Puig, served on the SSV Waterloo during the First Contact War, after which she disappeared without notifying anyone in her chain of command.

“Two days ago, someone resembling her description entered Vancouver’s military spaceport through unknown means and executed a zero day attack upon military grade firewalls. Although our technicians quickly booted her out of our servers, the data she potential made off with is disconcerting.”

Zhao’s assistant toggled the display once more. This time the display showed off an impressively long list of alien sounding names.

“This” the major said in a serious, crisp tone, “is a list of potentially compromised itineraries of people from Salarian doctors to Asari commandos.

“The brass does not want this to get out as you may already suspect.” Zhao gazed at Shepard, “And to stop any potential fallout from an untimely assassination attempt, they have decided to devote N7 resources to the matter.”

He must have known that Shepard had been an N7 for less than a day. “Are we clear on what that means?”

She stood up with proper attention to deliver her own best salute while wearing a hungry smirk. Never let it be said that Vera Shepard leaves her swagger behind when the chain of command places its eggs in her basket.

“Sir, yes sir. Failure is not an option.”

“Good, Lieutenant Kilroy?” The major turned his gaze to address the other soldier in the room.

“Yes sir?” He replied timidly, at this point intimidated by Zhao and Shepard’s presences.

Like any unrelenting drill sergeant, Zhao only seemed to grow his intimidation factor when he spoke again with authority. “You are hereby placed under Staff Lieutenant Shepard's command, effectively immediately. Shepard, report to Vancouver Special Operations Base in 48 hours. Arcturus’s quartermaster knows to expect you.”

“What's Lieutenant’s situation sir?” Shepard asked, knowing well enough not to question the personnel assignment directly.

“He is an L2 biotic currently being screened for N school.” The Major answered, “Our current rosters sorely lacks strong biotics. Ten years ago Lieutenant Kilroy here was one of the top students at BAaT. I was informed that his amplified spikes are currently the second highest observed in a human.”

At the mention of the biotics training program Kilroy visibly shrunk even more. His boyish features that Shepard considered even somewhat handsome twisted and darkened before he meekly pinned his sight to the toes of his boots to hide his face. Shepard had heard whispers between drinks with fellow marines of some of the unfortunate practices that went on in the program that got canned more than a decade ago, and seeing the darkening features of Kilroy made her believe that maybe there exists an ounce of truth.

“Alright Kilroy, pack light.” Shepard said as she checked shuttle departures with her omni-tool, “meet me by the quartermaster’s office in thirty. We are catching the next shuttle to Vancouver in two hours. Dismissed.”

“Yes ma’am”

After the door closed behind the young biotic Shepard looked to Zhao.

“Sir, I think we both know that man’s chances in the N’s is slim at best.”

“Yes, well. Some N’s are born,” Zhao paused briefly to level his gaze at Shepard as a point of emphasis, “others are made. You’re just being asked to put some extra effort into making that young man one of us.”

“On the account of his biotics, sir?”

The Major nodded. “Keep in mind most of what you’ll be doing is investigative work. Use that chance to delegate Kilroy responsibilities and evaluate his capabilities. Puig has no technical training past boot camp that the Alliance is aware of. It is highly likely someone provided the hack, so let the lieutenant start there and see what he can dig up.”

Shepard silently questioned the prudency in letting the rookie take the lead. “Sir if he were to get in my way…”

“I understand. This mission is your highest priority.” She was cut off,  “Any more questions?”

“No sir.”

“Good, you are dismissed. Good luck.”

Her concerns more or less put aside for the moment, Shepard left the room and started towards her temporary quarters.

Her duffle bag was already packed and set to go resting in her closet. After picking it up she made her way to quartermaster’s office to take stock of some of the new toys made available by her newest designation.

The man in charge was a balding old gunnery sergeant many of the N’s like to call Gunny. He walked with a slight limp from an injury that took him off active duty years ago but despite that he walked around like one of the proudest marines Shepard knows.

The man was also one of the few constant presences in her life, having served under Hannah Shepard’s command aboard two different vessels.

“Vera,” Gunny greeted her when he saw her silhouette enter the dimly hall way leading up to the shooting range. His arms were spread open, he features as warm and welcoming as one would expect from a hardened marine. “I knew you’d coming around here.”

Shepard embraced him, taking a congratulatory pat on her back while doing so. Afterwards he held her shoulders at an arm’s length and looked over her from head to toe.

“Captain Hannah’s little daughter, all grown up and an N7 badass.” He cheerily said, “Your mother must be so proud.”

“That’s not the right word for it I’m afraid Gunny.”

“Oh?” The older man raised an eyebrow, sensing the conflict between mother and daughter from her apprehension.

“She was so against me taking up the commendation for N school from Anderson, so I lied to her and convinced her that I had a change of heart left the program after N6, applied for a transfer to the _Tokyo_.” Shepard admitted with a grimace, “I’m guessing being proud is at the bottom of her list of feelings towards me.”

“You’ll be fine dear girl, mothers will always be mothers.” Gunny calmly stated, “Come with me to the armory. I’ve been instructed to give you carte blanche.”

Shepard perked up at that notion.

Through the door that led into a pristine looking chrome-coated room, she was greeted with the familiar racks of weapons and armor that lined up the walls. The weapons range through another door on the far end was rife with activity. Marines cycled to and from the weapon mod table, the various ranges, and Shepard’s current room with the weapon’s racks. The cacophony of guns being fired, boots hitting the hard flooring, and different apparatuses machining modifications drowned out her anxiety over her mother.

Gunny pushed through several enlisted marines discussing weapon preferences to get to his office – a cornered section of the large room that was half-walled and encased in bullet-proof glass. Shepard followed suit a moment later, only for the older man to reappear again with a couple of metallic cases in hand. He motioned for her to follow him to an unoccupied desk, settling both cases gently down upon it.

“This,” he half-yelled over the background noise while popping open the locks of the larger of the two cases, “is a little something every N7 receives before their first official mission.”

He raised the top half of the case on its hinge to reveal a full set of untouched battle armor emblazoned with the black and red colors of the Alliance’s best and the N7 insignia on the chest piece. “Black carbon fibre inset with titanium alloy, compressed with strong unidirectional mass effect fields, and finally coated with carbon nanotube webbing. Best materials available to the Alliance, not to mention the strongest kinetic shields and some next-gen communications and medical VI to maximize survivability in battle.”

Shepard barely registered Gunny’s voice. Her fingers ghosted over the chest piece to trace over the invisible patterns of the surface layer, stopping at the N7 symbol. Pride wasn’t an emotion she let herself give in to, given the expectations bestowed upon her for being the offspring of two highly decorated Alliance Navy officers, but she did let herself have this one moment at least.

She felt Gunny’s steady hand on her shoulder. Turning to face him she muttered a weak “thank you” before taking the corners of the case and shutting it herself. Recomposed after the overwhelming moment, she let out a breathy sigh and willed her body to relax. The older man continued.

“Captain Anderson also put in a few suggestions and insights into your battle tactics.” He paused to let some suspense build. Clearly from his expression the man was more than a little excited to reveal the secret he was hiding.

Not feeling particularly patient but rather a child waking up in Christmas morning, Shepard scowled and darted her hands to open the second case. Only for them to be dismissively slapped away from the quartermaster.

“Dear girl that’s something else altogether.” He said, while powering up his omni tool. Shepard’s beeped a second later – there was a request for a program to be transferred. “That is the Alliance’s new prototype cloaking program. To minimize the light distortions, the eggheads came up with this new tech called Multi-directional Light Scattering. The specs go beyond even my head, but I can tell you it will make you damn near invisible right up until the enemy’s staring right at your face. Got the duration to cover the distance too.”

“Any downsides?” Shepard asked, knowing there’s always a downside to new prototypes.

“The power draw is a problem. While moving around won’t deactivate the cloaking effect your shields won’t be able to recharge and your other techs will most likely deactivate the cloaking too.”

“Interesting, I assume you’ve transferred the source code over too.” Shepard said pensively.

“Of course, the engineers designed this tech with front line scout snipers in mind. I’m sure they would love some feedback and fine tuning from one of the best.”

“Mom always said you were a flatterer.” Shepard amusedly sniped back, though happy to be given the leeway for some tinkering. “Come on Gunny, you know I’m dying to know what’s in the second case. You’ve spoiled me silly so far.”

Gunny chuckled heartily before sliding the case over for Shepard to open.

When she did, it revealed a black colored, angular looking long rifle collapsed into a tube shaped object the length of her forearm. Separately stowed in the case was a sniper’s scope and a barrel extension.

“I’ve never seen this kind of sniper rifle before.” Shepard said, eyes glued to the black sheen of the rifle’s body. “And I’ve seen every kind of sniper rifle.” She tacked on blandly.

“Every kind?” Gunny asked her back enigmatically, “Even Geth ones?”

The mentioning of the synthetic race caught her interest. Shepard peeled her eyes away from the unknown weapon to level them at the older man.

“A while ago the Asari responded to mysterious Geth sighting just one jump from Thessia. As I was told, their commandos boarded a Geth cruiser under fire to set off an EMP and walked away with several mysterious weapon systems.”

“This one of them?” Shepard was intrigued. An aficionado in the truest sense when it came to long range rifles, a weapon so very alien was definitely up her alley.

“A lightly modified version, yes.” Gunny said as he hefted the impressive weight of the weapon into the new N7’s hands. “Weapons development got their hands on an original and dubbed it the Widow. It was a one-shot one-kill weapon like the Mantis you’re using. Though the recoil on the thing turned out to be a problem. ‘Literally bone shattering’ I believe was the phrase they used.”

Shepard carefully examined the heavy rifle, rotating it about in her hands. It had too many hard angles to have been entirely of Geth origin. “Looks like the Geth upped the stopping power of some outdated rifle they picked up. The caliber on this thing is far too large to have been made recently by any Citadel races.”

The older man seemed impressed by her observation. He enthusiastically nod before continuing. “That is the prevailing thought. Though you won’t believe the muzzle velocity on the original Widow. I almost fell out of my chair when they told me it can fire a piece of tungsten alloy at Mach 12 in Earth atmosphere.”

Shepard let out a drawn out whistle. She pointedly looked at the diameter of the barrel to conceive the kinetic energy of that bullet. No gun, alien or human, she had encountered could have achieved half those speeds with such a large projectile.

“And this modified version?” She asked, absorbed by the potential of the weapon she held in her hands.

“A little more tame, ten percent less muzzle velocity in exchange for less chance of shattering your bones. There is also a dampener installed in the stock to further lessen the recoil. The Alliance engineers also borrowed a clever Turian trick to dissipate the heat more efficiently by letting the vacuum left behind the first shot to draw in more air and cool the mechanism. You should be able to fire three rounds before the thing overheats.”

Shepard couldn’t hide her smile, eager to test this new weapon out in the range. Halfway to across the door though, a crazy idea popped into her head.

“Gunny, humor me,” she said, knowing that her old friend would just as likely take the weapon away from her insane hands as going along with her plans. “If you were to uninstall the dampener, how much would that shave off the weapon’s weight?”

“What?” he asked back, incredulously, then narrowed his eyes at the young woman. “What you planning girl?”

“Well,” Shepard began to explain, pausing for a second to interface with her omni-tool. “Mobility is key for me in battle. I was thinking if the gun was lighter I’d be able to move around much faster.”

“Mobility ain’t gonna do you much good if you have nursing a broken arm after one shot.” Gunny quipped back, still trying to understand what Shepard was getting at.

“What if we devote some of my armor’s kinetic shields to lessening the recoil? If you have the force profile of the gun,” she elaborated while bring up the activation thresholds of her armor’s kinetic shields, “I could add it to my shield generator’s memory in addition to conventional incoming projectiles.”

“That way the shield activates when your armor detects your new gun’s recoil.” Gunny agreed understandingly. “You’re going to need a backup generator if that’s your plan or else you’re looking at minimal ability to return fire if your shields are brought down by the enemy.”

“Still more efficient than this dampener those eggheads installed. Besides if I’m doing my job, I won’t be taking too much enemy fire in the first place.”

“Better safe than sorry right?” Gunny asked rhetorically as he took the modified Widow to the machining tables to do as Shepard asked.

She smirked at that, not one to put much weight in safety when it came to battle. She was brought up being told she was the best, trained by the best instructors, and given the best equipment. She would never play less to her strengths in the name of survivability. That just wasn’t how she was taught to win.

Five minutes later Gunny walked back, rifle in hand, as Shepard equipped her new N7 armor. It fit her perfectly as she tested out the full range of motions given to her joints. Primary and backup shield generators in place she logged the recoil specs into her omni-tool. The pair continued to the firing rage and paced to the farthest lane that offered the longest distance to the target.

“Before we get started, wanna give this baby a new name? It certainly is one of a kind now.” Gunny asked as he gingerly placed the rifle in Shepard’s eagerly waiting hands.

It was considerably lighter than before, a much easier adjustment compared to the Mantis rifle she favored. Touching the trigger guard to extend the weapon to its full length and sighting the barrel down range, Shepard breathed in slowly to focus her eyes at the target’s vital point. Her finger ghosted over the trigger as she imagined pulling the thing to unleash all the kinetic energy.

Lethality in its purest form, she thought.

“How about calling this thing the Black Widow?” She calmly spoke without breaking her concentration. In the corner of her eye she noticed Gunny smile and nod at the fitting name.

“Black Widow it is.” She reiterated, pulling the trigger as the last syllable left her breath. As expected her shield flashed its light blue aura, draining away the initial kick. The rest of the recoil was light enough for her shoulder to bear but only just. The explosive sound drew several pairs of wandering eyes to their lane, leaving all of them awestruck at the N7 and her Black Widow.

At the other end, the target dummy all but shuddered backwards. Its standard issue body armor exploded near the impact site at center chest to reveal a crater the size of a small watermelon.

Taking in the damage Shepard tried her best to hide the wide smile threatening to crack open her mouth. “Not bad Gunny, not bad”, she managed to say nonchalantly.

He took one look at her and burst out laughing. Typical Vera Shepard.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Lieutenant Kilroy walked into the armory Shepard had worked her way through her share of the armored, shielded, barrier-enforced target dummies and then some. Instead of the typical gunfire and hustle and bustle of marines he was greeted by the silent awe of a dozen soldiers crowding around his new immediate superior.

The crowd dispersed not long after, leaving the way clear for the quartermaster to walk out door separating the armory and the firing range with a fully armored Shepard in tow. Seeing Kilroy standing at attention, she bid a quick goodbye to Gunny on her way to seeing to her charge.

He was about to salute when she removed her N7 helmet and lightly frowned at the motion.

“None of that formal stuff, it’s a waste of my time and your effort.” She deadpanned, powering off the shield generators before moving to undo the locks and buckles keeping her greaves and gauntlets in place. “And before you start, don’t call me ‘ma’am’ either. That’s how people refer to my mom.”

The young man cleared his throat, body taunt with anxious energy. His eyes darted between Shepard’s face and the mean-looking Black Widow she held almost casually in her hands.

“Come on Lieutenant, do I really scare you that much?” She asked while collapsing the sniper rifle and stowing it back in its case. There was a hint of amusement in her voice.

Kilroy shook his head vehemently, though he convinced no one in the process. “No! Of course not, uh…Shepard.” Her surname struggled at the tip of his tongue.

She heaved a sigh, drawing out the motions of putting her armor away. She took the time to school away the harder lines of her feature.

Her voice was calm and disarming when she turned to face her charge.

“Lieutenant,” she began. “I know you’re nervous. I would be too.” She held up a hand to stop him from interrupting, “I would be too if someone put in a commendation for me into N school that I don’t feel like I deserved.”

Kilroy's throat visibly tensed for a brief moment before he hesitantly looked to Shepard in the eye. She made to gently rest her hand on his elbow. It was a gesture she had observed from her mother and Anderson multiple times and seemed quite effective when the situation called for a connection with a subordinate.

He still looked vulnerable and uneasy, but clarity slowly crept into his eyes.

“It’s not only that Shepard,” he quietly responded, though maintaining eye contact. “I’m in way over my head. Everyone tells me that being an N means you’ve demonstrated a willingness to put everything on the line in the face of battle. Make the hard choices and carry through. The only reason I’m here is because I’m a biotic who didn’t get completely fucked up by Brain Camp or go crazy from the L2 implant. I can’t do any of the things people like you do.”

Shepard silently acknowledged Kilroy’s self-awareness. She was even a little relieved to have heard him owning up to his special circumstances. While she saw no point in arguing the truths in his self-deprecation she wasn’t going to let him stand there all day feeling sorry for himself. With a strong nudge of her hand on his elbow, she lead him on a quick round around the various surrounding weapon racks, stopping occasionally to examine the multitude of available weaponry and unceremoniously depositing several into his waiting arms.

He looked lost, dumbfounded amongst the selection of guns and trailing behind Shepard as she entered the shooting range.

He looked even more so when, one after another, Shepard handed him anything from a shotgun to a submachine gun to an assault rifle and ordered him to shoot at targets and distances she would methodically cycle through. Every once in a while Shepard nodded to herself and mentally noted his performance. As far as her expectation go, Kilroy actually processed comparatively better technique and posture.

After letting the young lieutenant try each of the weapons she had selected Shepard allowed him to work through some of his favored ones. His competency was nothing to awe at, but by the time they had to leave in order to board the Earth-bound shuttle it was definitely on the rise. For one Kilroy was countering and absorbing the recoil of even the Katana shotgun to deliver multiple consecutive slugs to center mass.

Shepard caught the beginnings of an assured grin when he turned to face her and triumphantly declare the shotgun his preferred weapon.

She almost didn’t have the heart to flip the safety on the Katana and silently berate him with a stare.

Suddenly everything went dark. Not a second later the furious red tint of emergency lighting flooded the armory. The artificially-tuned voice of the station’s VI came alive through the array of speakers lining up the top of ceiling.

“Hull breach detected at level 3C. Station element zero core is offline. Civilian personnel please remain calm. All available military personnel, report to general stations. All available military…”

The VI’s voice abruptly erupted into several incomprehensible gurgles before falling silent. Those marines present within the armory and stationed somewhere on Arcturus burst into a flurry of practiced activity. The handful of soldiers who are on the space station on a non-permanent basis wisely stayed clear of the organized chaos.

Shepard and Kilroy have found a corner amid the racks of weapons to stay clear of all the foot traffic. Her omni-tool showed a loss of signal to both the extranet and Alliance broadcasts which immediately put her mind on alert. Communications is definitely being jammed somehow. Hardened Alliance commander channeled don't go down this completely with an accidental hull breach and loss of power. There are usually backups of backups and layers of redundancy beyond that.

Plus the VI is still to be heard from again. That's two points of redundancy that didn't kick in.

She quickly checked with Kilroy and other idle marines to see if her signal loss was isolated. It wasn't. Instincts set in and she quickly turned the nearest marine walking with purpose with a rough hand on the shoulder.

“Staff Lieutenant Vera Shepard, N7 Attican Traverse Expeditionary Forces.” She tersely identified herself, “All my comms are down, is there any way I can get in touch with the quick response force heading to the breach site?”

The marine, a woman close to Shepard's age by her looks, looked a little put off by the interception but quickly recovered, likely acknowledging the N7 designation.

“Ma’am, station engineers are likely working on communications. The nearest QRF posting to the site isn't far from the armory. If you hurry you can probably catch the last of them leaving the barracks down the hallway to your right.”

Shepard curtly nodded, deciding to forgo her armor in the interest of haste she ran out of the armory and armed herself with a Carnifex along the way. Behind her she heard the pattering of a pair of boots that turned out to belong to Kilroy with his new favorite shotgun in hand.

She didn't want to waste time telling the man to turn back so instead she inwardly prayed that he wouldn't be a hindrance if the situation turned out as she feared.

All of a sudden several deadened thumps erupted ahead. They were the unmistakable sound of automatic assault rifles. She fought the urge the break into a dead sprint. In the darkened and disorientating red she could ill afford anything less than total awareness. The presence of hostiles confirmed, Shepard clicked off the safety of the pistol in her hand and brought up the sights to bear. In the corner of her eye she noticed the trailing lieutenant had done much the same.

“You amped?” She asked in a low voice, not breaking a step or peeling her eyes away from the end of her Carnifex’s barrel. To her right she could see the entrance to the barracks the woman back in the armory had referred to.

“No, but I can still nudge enemies out of cover with a pull.” He answered, a hint of reservation in his voice.

Shepard nodded and added that to her short list of options should they encounter hostiles in a tough engagement.

Not too long afterwards they came upon armored friendlies, about platoon strength. There was a man wearing the bars of a captain who noticed the incoming pair. He managed the cover the distance to Shepard and Kilroy within a couple of long and determined strides. Even in the limited visibility and behind his helmet’s visor, Shepard could tell he was under a great deal of stress.

“Identify yourselves!” He shouted despite the proximity, assault rifle at the ready.

“Staff Lieutenant Vera Shepard, N7.” Shepard calmly stated for the second time in a span of five minutes.

“Second Lieutenant Calvin Kilroy, sir!” the biotic bellowed with a strong salute.

Shepard couldn’t help but look annoyed for a split second, though she supposed from rumours of BAaT that the unfortunate alumnus of the program must have been instilled with a habit of properly addressing authority no matter how inopportune the situation.

“Captain Toni. I’ll take your word for it Lieutenant Shepard. We could really use an N7 right about now.”

She gave the captain a curt nod and followed when he turned to walk back to his original spot. There the hallway opened up to a high ceiling that probably encompassed the entirety of the station’s height. To their right was an array of desks and terminals, abandoned. There was also a large reception table that bore the markings of impacts from small arms fire. On the other side were a series of docks with attached tunnel-like tubes inlaid onto a vast pane of clear glass – except one that was curiously cleanly detached and floating freely. Kinetic shielding was engaged to cover up the neat man-sized circle cut into the shell of the station where the derelict tube once was.

“Is that the breach the VI warned us about?” Shepard asked Captain Toni.

He responded with a dip of his head. Up ahead his men have erected a makeshift barricade with supply crates and various other debris. As the group of three neared the main contingent of the quick response force, the barking report of a sniper rifle echoed through the large space. A marine was lifted clean off his feet, kinetic shields flaring in a furious burst before evaporating. He landed with a thud and slid across the deck, leaving a trail of red slick.

Fortunately, he was alive enough to let out a guttural groan. A pair of medics rushed up for triage.

“Sniper!” Captain Toni bellowed past Shepard and Kilroy. “Get Anatoly back here. Someone provide some covering fire!”

Amidst the prattling reports of the marine contingent’s another thump of the enemy sniper rifle and ricocheted off of the wall on the flank of Toni’s men. A couple of the marines blindly fired in the general direction of the sniper before the entire group fell back from the choke point.

“My platoon has been pinned by that sniper ever since his buddies went through that exit in the far end.” Captain Toni informed Shepard, his voice pressed. “Some of my engineers think he’s guarding whatever is jamming communications onboard the station.”

Shepard nodded curtly. “I might have something to help you with that.” She said, flipping through the programs in her omni-tool. “From the sounds of the muzzle, I think…” The interface lit up, telling her program was ready. “M-92?” She asked rhetorically while inputting a couple of numbers.

The captain gave her a skeptical look, to which Shepard responded with a shrug and continued to calibrate. She was confident in her assessment, the sound of a slug being fired out of the Mantis was something she was deeply familiar with.

“I’m going to need someone’s helmet and an Avenger, I think that'll trick our friend into shooting.” She said as she started to make her to the position where the marine was shot, keeping herself low to the ground to cut down her exposure.

Captain Toni volunteered both items to her before prowling up to the makeshift barricade right beside her. Kilroy followed suit.

Propping the helmet on top of the assault rifle, Shepard slowly raised it, gripping it by the stock and passing one hand over the other. Her omni-tool’s tool interface showing that it was awaiting audio input.

A shot fired and Shepard's omni-tool registered the impact the slug made against Toni’s helmet. Its three external microphones each also registered a second perturbation of the air from the slug exiting its barrel. Factoring in standard air density and temperature aboard the Alliance space station, muzzle velocity of an M-92, and the tiny, micro-second differences between three separate measurements of compressional waves left in the bullet’s wake and its impact, Shepard’s algorithm quickly computed an estimate of the enemy’s direction and distance.

Shepard dropped the Avenger along with the decimated helmet and drew her Carnifex. About forty feet up from the ground at her two o’clock she spotted the shimmering figure of a cloaked sniper on a balcony roughly four hundred feet away and overlooking the terminal. He's relocating to another firing spot while reloading the rifle in his hands.

She made up her mind to close up the distance and leapt over her cover. Her legs pumped and covered the distance to nearest piece of defilade – a metal office desk that she neatly slid behind – while keeping a keen eye on the blurred movement of her target. Just as he had finished locking in another heat sink Shepard emptied the six shots, leading three of those perfectly. The first two engaged the kinetic shielding and harmlessly bounced off his armor. The third proved too much for the electromagnetic field and buried itself just beneath the sniper’s collar bone with a wet and nasty sound. The impact drove his shoulder into the opposing wall and loosened his grip on his rifle.

Still, six shots were all Vera had and she cursed herself for not landing a killing blow before being forced to reload herself.

She peered above the top of the desk and was quickly met with several close misses from a sub-machine gun. The explosion of sparks sent into her eyes left her reeling back under her cover. This sniper has her pinned, leaving Shepard scanning for what few options she had left. Her eyes darted from one piece of office equipment to another. Sure she has a fresh clip of sinks but not she lacked the armour and the kinetic shielding to risk darting and closing in on the enemy.

“Kilroy” Shepard shouted towards the young lieutenant’s direction in a hushed tone, “Kilroy, do you copy?”

There was no sound from behind the barricade. There was also no covering fire, which Shepard took to mean that Toni’s men had lost track of the cloaked figure. Shepard tried again to summon Kilroy’s attention. She was answered with a burst of pings against the ground just a couple of feet away.

A few cogs inside her head suddenly clicked into place. This sniper on the balcony, whoever he was, was an undeniably accurate shot, but he was also close enough to the mental edge that he would waste precious ammunition on his sidearm – the only weapon keeping a squad of marines and an N7 from bum rushing him – on just a warning shot. That twitchy trigger finger was going to be his downfall and Shepard’s luck placed her behind a piece of cover just big enough for her recklessness to work.

She scurried silently to the very edge of the desk and counted out a rhythmic beat under her breath.

“One, two, three” she poked her head out and immediately ducked back down. _Ping ping ping ping ping…_

She rolled back towards the centre of the desk, poking her head out once again. “And one and two.”

At “two” the SMG sent another burst of pings to the vacated space where her head had occupied. Now Shepard rolls back, purposely overshooting the edge with some added clumsiness. “And three” – she turned about on the sole of her boot to neatly place herself behind cover once again. This time she was welcomed with a string of nearly ten shots ricocheting off the metallic floor.

Finally, without giving the twitchy triggerman a breather Shepard swung her body all the way to the far edge of the desk and stood up just enough to solicit the final few rounds before the faint whistle of an overheated gun blew.

“Kilroy! I hope you saw where he is!” Shepard shouted as she broke cover completely, “Pull him out now!”

To his credit the biotic had paid close enough attention to the source of the bursts of gunfire. With an arcing swing of his hand Kilroy produced a tight dark energy field that bounded towards the cloaked sniper’s cover. It wasn’t strong, but it didn’t need to be. The field quickly crossed the open shuttle terminal and jerked the assailant’s body up as if he were being pulled by the cuff of his neck. The shock of unexpected gravitational shift left him stunned for a split second.

During the span of which Shepard let fly three bullets. The first two brought his shields down, leaving the third bullet to bury itself deep into his skull.

Toni’s men immediately fanned out from behind their barricade to cover all the visible entryways. The captain himself called to his available engineers, who after a brief huddled discussion amidst a criss-cross of omni-tools and projections, climbed a flight of stairs that hugged the transparent glass wall looking out to space. The catwalk at the top of the flight of stairs rounded the corner joining glass to chromed steel and situated about eight feet above the balcony where the dead sniper’s body lay.

The team of engineers dropped down and in a span of less than ten seconds managed to manually release the powered down mechanism of an automatic door leading out of. One of them spared a second to disarm the body of the sub-machine gun and the mantis that lied not a couple of feet away.

Toni nudged his way forcefully into the flurry of activity of marines and engineers, chest puffed and full of authority. Shepard’s cochlear implant squawked two long bursts and then frantic voices gradually surfaced from the static. Like water exploding out of a dam a cacophony of frantic marines came out of nowhere. Toni nodded in approval to one his engineers.

Relieved that the communications blockade had been lifted, the Alliance garrison on the station sprang to life and seemed to regain their practiced coordination. One by one, section of Arcturus reported in their all clears.

“Captain Toni,” Shepard called out through the newly liberated channels, “how much do you want to bet our sniper friend set up that jammer and blacked out the station all by himself?”

“I wouldn’t even bet the dirt on the bottom of my boot.” Toni replied, “The sniping and the jamming and the blackout is definitely meant to delay the station’s response. Our buddy definitely has more friends walking around aboard the station.”

“Captain, I haven’t been on the station for long. Who’s the ranking officer on Arcturus?” She asked imperturbably as she released the spent heat sink of her pistol. “Please get in contact with him and get an update on the number of high value targets onboard the station and their locations. I’m heading out to secure the parliament chambers with Lieutenant Kilroy.” She motioned for Kilroy to follow her as she set out a pace. From the space port it was a quick dash through the arrivals check point and then a grand walkway adorned with portraits of current and former cabinet members.

Kilroy clearly looked out of his depth. His eyes looked a bit frantic and his forehead end beading with sweat. He was panting, not from the exertion because no career Alliance man, forced into the life or not, should have any problem keeping up with this pace. It was the adrenaline wreaking havoc on his nerves. Shepherd had seen it before in many freshly minted N school recruits.

“Hey Lieutenant,” Shepard calmly said, slowing down at a corner. She waited until her charge’s gaze had stopped darting to and fro between several random points behind Shepard’s left and her right. When their eyes finally connected she playfully tapped a fist against his chest. He winced and backpedalled just the slightest, his gaze finally focusing. “Stop looking for the enemy. Trust your senses to alert you to any dangers when they present themselves.”

The young lieutenant responded with a nervous nod, though the temporary respite seems to have taken the anxious edge off.

“Right. Focus and you’ll do just fine.” Shepard whispered back as she directed her attention ahead. In front of the pair is a heavy set pair of double doors. A quick peek around the corner revealed a longer corridor than the one they had just traversed. It’s then, staring down the length of confined aisle that sparingly provided cover that Shepard felt a stinging dread in the pit of her stomach.

There, not ten meters away, lied the first body. It looked like a woman in her early forties. She was noticeably fit, dressed in professional and obviously expensive garbs – most likely a member of the Alliance Parliament. A clean grouping of three shots dotted in her chest. Her beige jacket was stained red and her skin was a porcelain white.

She wasn’t the only casualty. Dozens of dead parliament members, assistants, and security littered the hallway – just as efficiently dispatched.

“Groupings on the victims are tight,” Kilroy uttered as the two stepped quietly past the dead bodies strewn about. “Looks like a group of spectres tore through there.”

Shephard gave a curt nod in agreement. It wasn’t like she expected anything less. She made a note of the remains of a flashbang that had gone off near her foot as she gingerly steered clear of body of an parliamentary security guard.

It looked Turian made. She thought back to the sniper back on the perch overlooking the docking station behind them. The use of a Mantis rifle suggested the shooter was human, or at least Alliance-trained, and she doesn’t recall the blood her pistol had splattered in the man’s helmet baring any colour other than red.

Shepard kept up her deliberate and careful pace, leaving Kilroy in her wake to check the pulses of the fallen. As she advanced she dared to hop that her companion would be able to find survivors amidst the massacre. Still she knew better than to pay too much attention to what Kilroy was doing. She was kept her senses focused – ready to raise her Carnifex in a split second.

An almost inaudible foot step. Twenty to twenty-five feet to her right, above a short flight of stairs.

A hand tossed out a fist-sized cylinder from behind a doorway.

Knowing what was about to happen, Shepard covered her eyes with the crook of her elbow – and sprinted headlong into the direction of the doorway behind which the hand had retreated.

The flashbang was disorientating, and even though her vision was spared somewhat the sharp and ear-piercing explosion sent her sensations reeling.

But there was no cause for panic – she’s trained for this. With a steady hand bracing the wall for balance she barely missed a beat. Her vision was still impossibly impaired, there was no helping that. From experience Shepard knows it would take about three more precious second before she would be able to trust her vision once again.

She needs to buy upwards of three seconds. Without being able to see nor hear Shepard was prepared to resort to surprise. She led with her right shoulder and lowered her body. She can’t judge the position of her assailant but guessed correctly that he would expose himself through the doorway expecting to put down the N7.

She felt the inertia of a heavy body, thanking her lucky stars that she managed to run into her assailant at his centre of mass. Without slowing she carried her momentum through his body, throwing them both off balance and onto the hardwood flooring. She hears the sounds of ceramic armour plates impacting the flooring along with the metallic clang of a rifle followed by its screeches as it slid away.

The assailant was quick to react. She feels him attempting to rise from the meelee, probably reaching to recover his weapon. She doesn't let him. Reaching a hand out to grab at anything, she managed to find some purchase on his shin and eventually found a grip around an ankle. She yanked, hard, and was rewarded with a satisfying thud.

Her vision slowly produced more contours and colours. It was out of focus but well enough. She manages to set her feet under her own weight and launched herself forward. On all fours and parallel to her opponent’s body, she again launched her body – this time sideways – and caught him off balance. She felt the impact of his head against the hallway’s walls as the man’s skull ricocheted onto her shoulder. His blurred figure looked limp and disoriented but she recognized that he was conscious enough to continue single-mindedly reach for his lost rifle.

With one determined motion Shepard planted her knee between his shoulder blades and reached for the base of his chin and the crown of his helmet. Then she twisted, applying torque to the neck with a clean snap.


End file.
